Pariah's Wasteland
by Harlequin de Rustre
Summary: The half demon son of a hero languishes in sex and alienation in Tristram. However, his miserable, debauched life gets a kick in the pants. WARNING: Very offbeat and very unashamed humor and dialogue. Featuring Uncorrupted!Blood Raven!
1. My Dear Sweet Migraine

My first Diablo Fan Fic

My first Diablo Fan Fic. This starts after the first slaying of Diablo, when people are rejoicing Terror's bloody end…

**Disclaimer:**** Blizzard owns Diablo, not I.**

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My life is truly cursed. In all this celebration, all the happiness, all the drunken foolery, and people still keep clear of me.

The incarnation of evil itself has failed to stake its claim upon earthly soil and they still treat me like a disease. Not that this is surprising. Who would love a sorcerer's bastard, who was conceived an unholy matriarch of vile portence, a succubus.

Nevermind that I am the noble hero's progeny, for a half-demon is worse than a full demon, for his intentions shall "never be known". Oh, and overlook the fact that he doesn't frighten animals or small children, he's pure _evil_!

By the one God, these people are almost as pathetic as Farnham. Still, scripture and prayer say to redeem those for their follies and trespasses if one is to be himself forgivable.

Now, let's observe the current scene. Ogden is coping with constant happily, but same can't be said for Gillian, who has to fend off advances of her patrons. The looks on their faces.

I'll go back to reading my book in this corner. It's not really my book, but my father's diary. He is quite a good author, and his sense of humor has fantastic timing, leading to a comforting read to keep me from the world's problems. Hopefully, the world's problems won't go looking for me.

"Oy! Bookworm!"

No such luck. Maybe if I ignore the annoying voice it will go away…

"I'm talkin' to ya, boy! Come and have a drink with me! In return, I might show you something."

Now that's new. A person wants to talk to me. And she's friendly. I guess I'll humor her request.

I walk over to her table and sit down. Now I have a better look at her, I see that this woman's fairly pretty. She has long, black hair, creamy white skin, and a well endowed body. Good things to have to get a suitor fast in Tristram.

"So, what do you want with the bastard of a demon? Name's Agrius. Yours?"

"I am Blood Raven, leader of the Sightless Eye Rogue militia. What I want is a few drinks and a little of your time."

She leans forward and winks seductively. Unfortunately for her, it isn't working.

"I'm underage. I'm not even into my eighteenth winter, the current season being autumn. Only legal thing I can drink is water."

Her jaw drops a little. And she asks the same damn question I hear every time a traveler asks for directions from me.

"_You're_ underage? But you've got white hair and your cheekbones are showing!"

"My cheekbones are showing because Ogden can't feed me a good amount or the townspeople will probably lynch him and burn his tavern to the ground for "consorting with the demon's child", even if he's the main source of food and income in this town.

My hair is white because when I was a baby I liked that color and the burgeoning magicks within me appealed to my whims."

"That's really… interesting. Poor you, I hope you're doing somewhat fine."

"Ah, I'm alright. Most of the people that try to kill me every day couldn't find their way around a stone wall without a map.

I'd like to take you up on that offer of yours."

"I thought you were underage."

"I am. Gillian takes orders quickly and it's a busy enough night for her not to study her customers."

"Alright. What would you like?"

"A pint of Dragon's Breath. I don't want to remember anything."

Blood Raven sets about putting in the orders. Gillian frantically wades over to the caskets and soon returns with two foaming flasks. One is filled with Harrogathi lager and the other with the fiery brew of doom I so indulge in.

"Here you go miss. And here's yours, _Agrius_."

"Blast. How _did_ you know it was me?"

"Only one man has the balls to drink this stuff in pints. For goodness sake, your plaque is the main draw for people out of town. Do you think that ruse still works? I just play along because you love this stuff"

"But can I still have this drink?"

"Yes, you insatiable weasel. Now I have to go. Be sure to help me clean up after we close."

Gillian turns to attend to the various orders and requests.

"Will do!"

"What was that about a plaque?"

"Well, about nine seasons back, a beer drinking contest was held. It included people from all over the land. There were three divisions.

The first and most populated was the Kurasti ale division, where you have to drink all the ale you can stomach. Next and fastest was the Toad Sweat division, where one has to drink a pint of the stuff and then hold out while the others passed out. The last and most popular was the Dragon's Breath division, the aim of which was kind of a combination of the previous two."

"So where do you come in?"

"Well, I had entered myself in at the last minute. See, I hadn't eaten in weeks. I was extremely dehydrated because the townsfolk threw stones at me whenever I got near the well. This contest was my only chance at nourishment, so I took it.

I entered into the Dragon's Breath division because it had the biggest reward because it had the biggest reward, and I figured that after I had slaked my thirst I could honestly get food and drink for a while.

The judges had no qualms, for the townspeople wanted me gone and Dragon's Breath has the reputation for killing many people by burning them painfully from the insides out. However, they didn't count on my past history of consuming barely edible.

I won by a long shot. I set a record of one quart and three and a half cups. I got my rightly deserved money, the townspeople kept clear of me, and Ogden put up that plaque. Three days later Ogden took me in and had me work for my room and board.

That contest saved me from money problems and that is one of the main reasons I'm addicted to the stuff."

"That's quite a story. I'm glad you cope with this rather well. You could write a successful book series based on your ventures.'

"At the moment I'm just trying to drink and get by. I've given up on gaining respect or leaving this town. And that's been workin' for me."

She shifts uncomfortably.

"You should live life with a smile. This depressing façade of yours is just some way to avoid taking shit."

I pause. Either this girl's deep, or just really good at guessing. I'm goin' with the former.

"I know that you're concerned and that I'm kinda pitiful, but I'm set on doing it this way. Sorry if it hurts your good humor, but I'm not planning on doing much."

She looks even more uncomfortable and frowns in consternation.

"Oh, come on, don't brood. I admit I was a bit deadpan and I'll make it up to you."

Blood Raven's countenance brightens and she cracks a wicked smile. Here it comes.

"I believe you will."

"I'll be upstairs. My room is the one on the right on the farthest side. You'll know it when you see it because it has multiple broken locks on the outside of it."

I take my drink and go to my room. When I get there, I walk in and sit down at my stool and turn to face the door. I quaff my drink and wait. A few minutes later, a few drunken goons show up at my door.

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**(Violence)**

I try to act surprised and ask them what the hell they're doing in my room. The obvious response:

"We're here to beat the living shit outta ya, demon brat. The plus side is that we're gettin' paid. The down side is we won't have a punching bag no more. Well, it's a whole lotta money. Don't wanna keep the recruiter waitin'."

"So…You're hired?"

"Yeh, to kick the crap outta ya--what are ya? Deaf, or stupid?"

Two thugs jump behind me hold my arms whilst the "boss" closes in to pound me. Here comes the punch.

"Neither. But it makes all the difference in the world."

"Huh?"

I let out the smoke kept in my system. It quick spreads and blinds the thugs.

The smoke comes from a chemical reaction from the Dragon's Breath coming in contact with the spittle in my mouth, causing it to froth and steam; thusly, smoke is formed. I learned the trick of holding it in and using it to escape when some dumbass comes after me.

As the foggy atmosphere thickens, I proceed to pound the crap out of the idiots. I backhand one moron and let him down slowly. A quick double-slap on both temples sends another to the floor. I decide to take a little time with the last one because he was a mouthy jackass.

I punch him in the solar plexus, watch his form kneel and vomit profusely on the floor, then kick his nose lightly, just enough to jar him and make it bleed, then kick him hard in the rocks, causing a loud yelp and the smell of urine to fill the air. At this point, he faints from the sudden pain.

**(End)**

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I look to a faintly visible approaching figure, who I believe is the employer they spoke of. Thankfully, the smoke barrier is still thick

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**(Graphic Sex)**

I grab the woman by her slick leather corset, support her with one arm as I bend her back proceed to kiss her. While I'm doing so, I proceed to grope her round bottom. This goes on for a few minutes, with her wriggling a little in a vain attempt to break.

Then I push my tongue up against her teeth and force her jaws apart. I play with her own tongue, wrapping around it, pushing it to the side, etc. I then turn my groping hand to sliding under her tight cloth thong and begin to finger her tight cunt. Slowly but surly she succumbs to me. Stifled moans emanate from her mouth as she begins to get wet from the pleasure.

I continue to tongue her, but I pull away a little bit to make it more exciting. The girl's tongue follows mine, and her spittle flows out a slight bit. Her eyes are low-lidded in characterization of lust. Her dripping wet sex is starting to gush. I pull back my finger and move my hand back, where I press lightly on her hard asshole while also massaging the hard raised line leading from it. I continue this for a few minutes as well. Her moans begin to grow low and incoherent.

I now press the woman up against a wall and check the smoke barrier. It's beginning to fade, so I let out a little more Dragon's Fog. When the opaqueness it to my liking, I stop. The girl's getting anxious, so I quickly regain control.

I hoist her thighs up and apart and support her butt. She giggles. I press my stiffened breeches against her as I navigate her corset.

"Oooh."

I pull it down until her breasts ooze out. I fondle her massive bosoms as I once again draw close for a kiss. Our tongues wrestle with renewed vigor. I feel my pants get wet from the wetness below. I release the passionate kiss in order to lick at her breasts. I poke and suck at her areolas and stiff nipples. She begins to moan again, coming out playful and loud. I stick two fingers of my free hand in her mouth to get her to be quieter. It works, but then she starts sucking on them. Jeez, I find that just a little perverse. These various actions continue until her moans increase in volume again, despite the fingers.

I lift my head up and meet her gaze. Hazel eyes upon silver. I perk one corner of my mouth. This next part is going to be fun for the both of us.

I let my average-length penis out of my breeches. A gasp from my victim. See, although there's nothing great about my length, the breadth of this thing makes most girls faint. Especially how it's formed. See, it's not too dramatic, but width of my member starts off decently thick, then gets wider as you go up to the middle, and then it slopes slightly until one reaches the head, where it's slightly bigger than the base, which is quite sizeable. Simply put; during sex, when I put it in, girls get loud and horny.

I prod at her sex for a bit, causing her to get anticipant.

"Oh, just fuck me alreadeeeeee!"

She tries to push down a bit. Good thing I've got both hands holding her. The strain is almost challenging. Lugging logs around pays off. Heh. I commence prodding a bit harder, causing her to get even more agitated. Then she gets in a lucky shot and the head of my member goes in. She moans a little, and then I start slow, almost taking her up to my middle. I put it in at different depths each time to keep her attentive and excited. Then I pick up the pace a little. Gasps and wetness gush from her in a wave and I myself start to moan a little.

She begins to bounce a bit, causing be a good deal of pleasure. I pull in for a quick kiss and tongue her, accentuating with every rise. Her womanly sex tightens slightly. I then thrust a little deeper, down on my bulge.

"Aah!"

I do this for a good while, as her breath gets shorter and shorter and my moans get more frequent. Then I stop abruptly.

"What? That was fun..."

I give her a look that makes her already reddened complexion deepen. She sighs and gets off. She turns to leave, and then I quickly and violently bend her over and take her in the anus. She moans loudly and starts to spurt more from her hot sex. I get quickly faster until I shoot my first seed in her.

"Oh, gods, that was beautiful!"

"Isn't over until you finish"

"But…I did…"

"No you didn't. I guess you Rogues satiate yourselves with each other, then. All the abilities for espionage and information gathering tactics, yet you poor girls don't know what an orgasm is firsthand. I'll be your first, then."

"Mmmm."

That smile again. This might be more fun than I thought.

"But first…"

I send out the last of my fog reserve. Gotta make this fast and hard.

I proceed with taking her remaining virtue on the floor. I thrust all of my member into her, causing her to pant with increasing pleasure. God she's beautiful in heat. Her breasts bounce as my thrusts grow faster. My climax is coming. I look upon her tight sex and her expression. She is about to come-- big time.

Then it happens, in harmony. She came when I did. As this happens I stifle the urge to scream out in pleasure. However, Blood Raven, being this her first real time, practically shakes the whole building.

My first time at this in months, and women still have trouble keeping it in; ever since my third "fuck attack", I've been too good for my liking. I like it still, but I like steady climaxes in a good story. Woah, was that a cheesy sex quip? Maybe my cock is trying to destroy my mind. Note to self: selflessness means less fun for yours truly, while selfishness causes my brain to shrink.

**(End)**

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I hear some assorted laughter and a nearby voice.

"Aw, man. How many more guys are gonna get some ass before I do?"

The mist is almost fully transparent. And there's the source of the voice.

"Heh, heh. Sorry Wirt. Couldn't resist, really. It's kind of a habit."

I pull a sheepish grin.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Please don't tell anyone, please. The last time I did this, the girl didn't keep quiet and I had to dodge yet another lynching attempt."

"Alright… Say, I came up here to tell you something interesting. I have some special order Kris daggers and some good spellbooks I bartered offa Adria. Could come in handy for your experiments."

"Thanks, but, eh, how do you know about my projects? Just wondering."

"Ah, I watched you a few times when you messed around with some cadavers around the church. You pulled off some really neat magicks. Why did you need the bodies?"

"Conquering death isn't exactly smart to do without a body to cast upon."

"So that's why you cursed a lot when the bodies blew up."

"Yeah. I'll get my savings ready for the deal."

Wirt leaves, muttering incoherently about Gillian, gold, and his leg. Blood Raven gazes up at me, ebony hair spilling out under her, smiling. I smile back.

"That was great."

"Glad you liked it. Now, pull yourself and rearrange your clothes. I'm going to go lug these guys out to the side of the tavern."

I button up the slit in my breeches and walk over to the unconscious louts. I take two and drag them to the window. I unlatch it, put one man over my shoulder, and put my boot on the ledge. I reach for the other thug and jump out the window. I skid my front soles on the stone wall to slow down my descent. When I close in on the street below, I jump and land lightly on my feet. I sit the two snoozing goons against a wall, leaning against each other's shoulders.

I scale the wall by using my honed fingernails to grip the tiny cracks in the near-solid stone surface. I reach the top without much difficulty.

**(Explanation)**

Why I'm able to do this is because I've got naturally thick nails that I've had since birth. I think it's one of the more useful things I've gotten from my mother, apart from strong resistance to poison and other talents and features that I'll get into later. Back on the subject of my "talons", I've used these buggers to cut open caught fish and stolen mutton, pick locks, and protect myself. I once even killed a hidden with these.

I'd occasionally borrow files from Griswold to sharpen them. When it got to the point where my nails could potentially gut me in my sleep, I took the skin of a dead fallen lying around near the graveyard and made little caps for my fingers to "sheath" the sharp appendages.

When I came under Ogden's care, Gillian tried to smooth them down. I remember the every file wearing down and splitting, and me laughing my ass off. Ogden stopped the girl when she attempted to cut them off with a cleaver. My nails are now as strong as stone. I now use a special scalpel I got from Pepin on my birthday to sharpen and keep them in order.

I remember thanking the old healer profusely, seeing as it was one of the few birthday gifts I ever got. This is in the collection of my good father's old diaries and spell books, a burnt-out staff, some skeletal cutlery and cups, the Harlequin Crest father gave me, a rusty dagger, a claymore stuck in its sheath, the Butcher's Cleaver (also from my father), some pencils and charcoal sticks, some sketches of various things (mostly demons and food), a large case of Pepin's experimental salves and potions, and women's underwear.

The last one I take as secret proof of my little sexual escapades. I always go after girls from out of town, seeing as they can't attack me the next day for taking their dignity.

One last note: when I finger girls, I have my nails sheathed. Only once did I not, and the girl had a hymen like stone. I always don't try to hurt people. I try to give the least amount of reason for those assholes to lynch me.

**(End)**

I pluck up the leader's prone form, and go back out the window. This time, I set him lying down sideways. I rush back up, get my foot on the ledge, and halt. Blood Raven isn't looking too please.

"While I was putting my clothes in proper order, I believe something was missing. My underwear. Give it back or I'll suffocate you with my cuirass."

"I'd love to die on a woman's chest. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside."

She's almost taken aback. _Almost_.

"Then I'll castrate you with a spoon and masturbate on your face as you watch."

"Let's try that."

**(Brief violence and Graphic sexual back-story)**

I pull out the dagger in my right boot and lop off my manhood. _Now_ she's taken aback. My disembodied penis bounces when it lands

"What the fuck? Are you madder than I thought?!"

"No, just proving a point."

The bleeding stump dries up, and a film covers it. It bulges a few times, and then a new member breaks forth, subtly bigger than the last. Blood Raven is stuck between disgust, disturbing fascination, and just blushing like crazy. Her face settles on a mixture of the three.

"What the FUCK was that?!"

"That's what the Farrians' girl said when she tried it the first few times. Then she stopped after I got in a good shot, then all she said after that was 'Fuck me! Fuck me! FUCK ME!'."

I giggle perversely. That was my first. One of the best times I actually had. The Farrians moved a week later, but not after one last "attack".

**(End)**

The Rogue grimaces slightly.

"That's just sick."

I take a bow. I do this in mock-reverence, keeping it as grandiose and low to the ground a possible. I look up and grin like a lunatic. I cross my eyes for good measure.

"I'll take that as a complement."

She stifles a laugh and attempts to regain her composure.

"_Now_ are you going to give me back my underwear?"

I straighten up. As I do so,

"No. I'll give you free room and board instead. And my old penis in a jar of formaldehyde as a memento of our time together. What say you?"

Again, she's stunned. Maybe she's not used to generous people. Or sexually active ones.

"How about the room and board and the underwear and you can keep your dead fuck-stick? It's for- em- lining my armor"

"I don't think so--"

I yank the lady's piece of under wear out. There is a neat cut on one side.

"I believe this is _thong_. The only thing it can line is the crack of your ass. Barely. There's just a little stringy piece of cloth about an inch wide. How 'bout I return this to your superior and she can return it to you"

She starts to get panicky.

'No. No! Anything but that! These are special order! Kashya doesn't know about these! She'd hang me by my thumbs for a day! FOR THE LOVE OF RALUSSA, _DON'T_ GIVE THEM TO KASHYA!!"

"I won't, I won't. You just take what I bargained, I keep the underwear, and things will keep fine, maybe a little breezy down there for you."

"Oh, alright."

She then mutters abstractly and walks away.

"Where are you going? Your room is this way"

"But your room's the only one here."

"Exactly. You'll be sleeping with me."

"Again?"

"No, that's _lying_ with you. Or just plain fucking, sexing, screwing, or banging you. I mean just sharing the bed with me."

"Oh."

"Man, you are almost unreal. Fortunately, I met stranger girls. Good times, good times…"

Blood Raven then gives me a look, goes in, walks over to my spacious bed and takes the right side of the mattress.

"Mmm. Comfy."

"I had to chase the frigging geese down myself. It had better be comfortable. Or the several girls that were previously in here were lying."

"Gods, you _are_ an evil ladykiller."

"Who told you that line?

It'll Megara, probably. That girl is on to me. Most people are too sensible to even try going after me, but she persists in plaguing me. Says I've been attacking livestock and raping little girls. I bet she doesn't even know what 'ladykiller' means.

I've told the people time and time and time again: 'Avoid Meg-- she's crazy.' Do they listen? Nooo. They just listen to her venomous bullshit, and then they join the villagers in trying to run me out of town. I tell ya, if I didn't find it so damn hilarious I'd attack the girl. Remind me in the morning to "attack" the village bitch. I'll know what you're talkin' about."

"Won't you remember yourself?"

"Nah, I forget most crap when I drink Dragon's Brew, unless it's bloody gore, violence, or great sex. I'm thinking I'll remember most of tonight."

The brunette smiles warmly.

"Well, goodnight. See you in the morning. _Stay_ so you can fill me in if I've forgotten stuff."

I go downstairs and proceed to clear the tables and wash them. Then I sweep up the rubbish on the floor, get my pay, and go back to my room and lie down. The Rogue is still awake, so some bedtime acrobatics goes on until Griswold next door yells for us to quiet down. Then we just tickle each other until be lie back, exhausted. We slip into sleep quickly and happily.

I wake up the next morning, with my memory strangely intact. Maybe this is going to be a good day. My one night stand is up and about, rifling through my crap.

"What. Do. You. Think. You're. Doing."

Blood Raven jumps and turns around.

"You were sound asleep a minute ago. I was just, you know…"

"No, I don't know. Please answer honestly."

"I was looking for your father's third diary. You were out cold for several hours. It's almost noontide."

"Put down my helmet and I'll believe you."

She lightly puts down the Harlequin Crest.

"Now, are you going to stick around?"

"Yeah. Kashya needed more time to produce money for supplies, and she and others are working off the overflow debt. Taxes aren't a problem here, but the healing potions are expensive as hell! Did you know that one bot--"

"--Bottle goes for fifty gold? Yes, I do. In that large foot locker is the large amount of failures and mess-up potions, along with some rare and dangerous ones.

A frequent prank I pull is I set up a stand and declare that I'm selling health potions for cheap. Some stupid penny-pinching mercenaries buy some of my bogus stock and they break out in hives ten minutes later. I tell ya, it's a gas. However, then I have to deal with a rabid mob soon after that."

"Um, speaking of causing mobs, there's a little thing you planned to settle the problem with a Megara?"

"Huh?...Oh yeah! Oh, this'll be really fun. Soothing the beast! Huu-hu-ha-ha-hah! Revenge! REVENGE!! It shall be mine!"

Blood Raven stops me in my manic tirade. I notice she's a little worried.

"Don't worry, I won't kill her. Just a little _banging_."

My twisted smile gives her the idea.

"Just don't bruise the bitch. It's not much of a lesson if it doesn't get through."

"I can't promise that, but it won't hurt. Much. For long."

"Just go on. Don't tell me about it; I'm sure people will be gossiping about it for a few weeks at least."

I give her a devilish wink and I'm off. I climb out an open window and scan the area. No sign "Her Royal Bitchliness".

I've taken to calling her this around others. It _was_ funny, until she started bloodying people who canted it within earshot.

I swing up onto the roof of the tavern and look from there. I hop down to Griswold's roof, and look around. Success. Ice queen at four o' clock. She's heading down an empty alleyway nearby. This is it!

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And that's a wrap! See you guys around! Please review this awesomely long fic!


	2. If Things Got Worse We'd Sing

Hi

Hi! This is my second chappie to this wonderfully indecent fic! I'll cut the crap now after these messages:

Disclaimer: I don't own Diablo… or another fandom I MIGHT just throw in there….

AND I'm puttin' this up on deviantArt first, so it will be just a bit weird…

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I jump over to another hay-thatched roof and crawl over to where I predicted would be behind her. I leap and make my descent. I scrape my nails smoothly down the walls, making as loud as an approach as I could. She turns around.

**(Backstory)(Backstory)(Backstory)(Backstory)(Backstory)(Backstory)(Backstory)**

Megara isn't a bad-looking girl, just a mean one. For a while, she was even the most wanted girl here. Then she started punching the guys who made advances. And some men didn't give up easily. That's how she is the ice queen of Tristram.

Daughter of the proprietor of a merchant's guild, she has everything girls want materialistically: gorgeous clothes, good food, lotsa confections, and her own purse full of gold. The purse of gold I took advantage of when I moved here. Even though it has a tight clasp, I always snuck out ten coins per day. Until she caught me.

Being sixteen years old and me about thirteen, she thought I was coming to grope her. Lemme tell you from experience, her right hook is _evil_. After that, she had some kind of nasty comment ready for me wherever I went. Life went to deeper shit from then.

Lynching became more frequent and trying to survive went to shit. I'm a forgiving person, to some extent. I can see why she thinks I'm an evil fuck. Not gonna stop me from getting a little payback, though.

**(End)**

I'm going to humiliate her in the deepest way possible: personally. No jokes, no immature pranks, no heckling, no bullying. Just making her feel as shitty as I did.

This is going to be hard for me for three reasons: She is a devout worshipper of gods, making this a religious fracas, seeing as I worship a totally different God. Megara is chaste and pure, making this seem like an assault in the Three Evil's names. And she's very attractive, making it difficult to not kiss her feet instead of giving her just desserts.

"Foolish girl. You shouldn't be here. Bad things happen to people in dark places. Why don't you just run home now?"

I use my best imitation of a demon's voice. I'd say I pulled it off pretty well, judging by her expression. For added effect, I bare my sharp, glistening teeth in a gruesome smile and use a bit of my magicks to add a glow to my eyes. Very scary, by my estimations.

"Keep away from me you dirty beast!"

The red haired girl attempts to make herself more intimidating by sticking out her chest. She's used this before, to great effect, but there's really only one true reason it works.

Her bust practically bursts from her dress, and most guys are so absorbed in ogling her that she has time to kick them in the rocks and run off. Not that she as much luck here, as I keep a straight face and laugh sinisterly as a reply. She is taken aback and throws a rock at me. I catch it. With my teeth.

"Keep away from me, you bastard, you don't frighten me."

I crush the rock with my jaws. The girl starts to get more frightened, but then she sucks it up and reaches for something.

"Ah, ah, ah…"

I shake my finger in a very vexatious way.

"You're not going to get out of here, my _sweet_."

Then she is now completely freaked. I just dared to call her what a certain bandit had at one point during an extended ransom. And I was he. I was the one who said that, but under disguise, thankfully. Hey, I was desperate.

"W-who are you?!"

I ponder this. Why doesn't she see me? Oh, it's dark, that's right. She can't. I now decide on what to say. Something unnerving, something dark, something perfect for the occasion…

"Consider me…your punishment."

Incoming fruit. Sometimes these bitches never learn. I dodge a-that way. I dodge a-this. Man, she really doesn't like me. I basically lazily evade the speeding produce. I get impatient. How much stuff is in the damn basket?

I decide to cut the barrage short instead of waiting for the ammunition to run low or the bitch to get tired. So I jump high, dive low, and snatch poor Megara away.

She screams her head off, but we're far enough away where they won't do her any good. I run like the wind, faster than any natural being. An even pace I keep, as grass rushes underneath me as I speed over the highlands.

When I spot a nice pile of hay, I dive into the pile, while hurling my captive on top.

It's a little hard, moving in hay. However, I've practiced crawling around in this stuff, just for fun. This skill comes in handy, as I attempt to allocate my victim. This is easy, seeing as her screeching and constant wriggling guide me.

"When my father finds out about this, you'll find yourself back in the pit you came from!!"

I pop my head up next to hers. I get the desired effect.

"AACK!... Wait a minute—" She takes a look at my face "You're that perverted demon that keeps plaguing the villagers."

She shifts backwards nervously.

"What do you plan to do with me?!"

"Oh. Just…eh… _this_."

**(Graphic Dialogue)**

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I sink down and burrow around to the bottom of her dress. I can feel her quaking with fear. Good…

I surface slowly, keeping most of my head down, save my white hair. Heh.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

I get a high-heeled boot in the face. And its metal tipped.

"Nice try, my sweet, but to no avail. Now you're really going to get it. I was just trying to spook you before."

"What kind of demon just frightens people?! You're lying!"

"No I'm not. Just look at the Hidden. No wait, you can't. They're invisible, save when they are going to kill… or have their way with pregnant women. Always pregnant women, for some strange reason."

Proceeding through the inside of Megara's skirt, I come to her frilly white undergarment. She's hyperventilating and trying to get away.

"Even though you're so pathetic, you really aren't putting up much of an effort. If I was in your position, I'd have tried to strangle my captor with my thighs."

And the girl is stupid enough to actually try this.

"I'm a tad immune to that tactic; it just makes me really hard in the pants. I say, you've got really smooth skin…"

"Why. Won't. You. DIE?!"

"Because I fuck women, women don't fuck me."

And the purpose of her kidnapping dawns on her.

"I'll eat you out now," I announce. I love weirding people out. A pastime I've had since birth…

A gloved fist hits my head. Maybe reality didn't dawn on her. Or maybe I'm just scary.

"I'd rather die than be eaten!!"

"Oh, so you want to die?" I reply. I poke my head up in a comical way, with my eyebrows raised. I smirk for added effect.

"I don't want either!" I laugh softly.

No, she's just really clueless. That explains an ass-load of things. Like how she thought being "really hung" was being hanged with a metal-lined rope. Hey, gossip about me can go both ways…

"Then the greater evil is a must…"

She starts screaming again. I push her thighs away from my skull and slit her underwear with my index fingernails.

She panics. And now for the immediate and totally predictable response: "NO! You won't take my virtue!"

"To hell with your virtue. It's not like you have much, anyway."

"I do so. I am faithful to the mighty gods, and I abide their rules."

"Feh, cold statues. I suppose that no place in your holy texts is there a "holy" law against the attacking of a defenseless child? Your bitchy tirades nearly got me killed several times. You're almost as bad as Lazarus the Heretic, sending half-witted ingrates to slaughter a boy over some feeble misunderstanding."

"You are no child! You are a deceptive demon that slits the throats of babies and makes unholy love to lowly beasts!"

"What crazy, fucked-up, _cracker barrel_ did you listen to? Honestly, what company do you keep that spreads such **WEIRD-ASS** lies about me and similar wretches?

I had to eat from the dirt when I was but a babe, for my care-taker would leave me to die as she went off to whore herself off to some mercenary. My teacher would peg me to the board, and then beat me with a rusty distaff whenever I made the slightest infringement."

I scowled with an almost hellish fury. Those days were just awful. I'd had better memories with the frigging Butcher, for criss sakes ((He was really bloodthirsty and sadistic, but he kind of liked me. However, he liked to play really rough games and I got broken bones and big bruises despite my increased durability of flesh.))! Then I sadden as I remember the times after those vile five years.

"Hell means nothing to me because earth for me was its equal. Love was a stranger to me until my father had come back to Tristram. Even then, when my father descended into the dungeons, the villagers would watch me, convinced that whatever I touched would die or be cursed. When that happened, they would come after me."

I hated it when the lynchings came, but at least those times were not as rough as when I was in a room with a self-righteous zealot. I soften as I remember my few friends (other than the baby Fallen, Lachdanan, and the Butcher.)…

"Mind you, Griswold and Ogden had no part in this, for they had different beliefs. And Adria was too fond of me."

I grimace at the recollection of one of our last few "sessions". Gad, my pelvis. The scars still ache from time to time.

"Way too fond. I went around her only when I was desperate. I kept in her house until father came back. Wirt also sympathized, because we were of similar situations, although he wasn't lynched.

I don't attack people in the dead of night. I only go after food and women. I need food to live, not blood as some think, and I like women for obvious reasons. I had my first real meal when I was seven. My first fuck came at fourteen. That's my life story in a nutshell."

I'm an inch from Meg's face. She looks like she's on the brink of tears. Or killing me.

"I understand you're so miserable. But that doesn't mean you're going to rape me."

And the right hook connects. Ouch.

As my eyes refocus, my captive is trying to wriggle away. I pull her back.

"Nooooooooooooooooh!! Nononononononononooooooooh!!"

"Nice try. Not really working for ya, though. Not exactly winning favors, either."

"You! WON'T! RAPE! ME!"

With each word, she wiggles furiously.

"I'm not gonna ravish you. I do have some kind of honor."

"You talk of revenge and taking my virginity, but you speak of honor? That's not convincing me."

I push her skirt up, exposing her frilly underwear.

"I don't hurt people most of the time. Even when my life is threatened, I restrain myself. The teachings that I believe in and my morals have me do so. Don't speak to me of your opinion, for it shall not sway me."

She is stunned but for a moment. Then the wind blows by and she notices what I did. Then the wiggling starts again. I notice this.

"But it doesn't mean you're not getting away from this."

I flip her back onto her back. Instead of what she expects, that being undoing my breeches, I open my mouth and let my tongue snake out. She starts wiggling even more.

**(Explanation)(Explanation) (Explanation)(Explanation) (Explanation)(Explanation)**

My tongue is another of the things I get from my mother's side. It is long, thick, and forked.

This is a key feature which I flaunt willingly and constantly. It helps keep annoying people from coming too close and helps attract a crowd in search of a freakshow sideshow, or just my special talents with it. In short, it's a money-maker.

My application in this situation is obvious: to pleasure the girl. No other reason.

**(End)(End)(End)(End) (End)(End)(End)(End) (End)(End)(End)(End) (End)(End)**

"You ARE NOT PUTTING _THAT_ IN ME!!"

"Oh, come on, you know you want it…Just, not, uh, now. But, ah, I will."

"YOU FUCKHEAD!!"

"Here it comes now. Open up."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH—"

I stick it in. My tongue feels its way through the little wet hole, seeking entrance. It comes to a wall, and pushes against it. It weakens a little, and I withdraw.

"How was that?"

I smile wantonly. Megara just stares at me blankly like I'm some sort of ugly fish.

I'm thinking she's like this at the moment because something from somewhere else went a certain place on her body when she was having trouble coping with what it was, and that it so explored her in such a manner so alien to her that she has trouble taking the concept of a certain something going somewhere real fast. That said, she isn't used to having a tongue in her koochy, and is really confused at how to react to it. That, and she is stumped by why I smiled at her and asked her how she was feeling when I'm supposed to be "ravishing" her.

Then she decided. She got really pissed.

"What the HELL are you doing?! You take me out here, proceed to forcefully enter me, and then play at asking me how I'm feeling and smiling as if you aren't trying to make unholy love to me. What the living FUCK do you THINK you're DOING?! I HATE YOU!! DIE!!"

She starts kicking, screaming, and cursing at me again, only harder and louder and filled with pure frustration. I've decided that she needs to learn a lesson.

"I HAAATE YOOOOOO—"

I lean forward, and kiss her firmly on the mouth. I give her the longest, deepest, and most _passionate_ kiss I've ever given previously. Honestly, I believe no woman in her right mind, even when so totally angry, would react badly to this.

Come to think of it, I pull stunts like this to avoid facing harsh reality. If I have to cheat to keep myself and loved ones happy, so be it.

I withdraw slowly, and look at her with heavy-lidded eyes. She seems to be in a daze…

"Now… how was that?"

She just stares upwards, unblinking… I'm starting to get a bad feeling

"Dear God, I've killed her."

I grimace comically. Having a dead girl is like having a house with no links to an aqueduct. No plumbing.

**(End… for just a little while)**

"Hello? Are you still with us? Oh Meg, your life is calling. Come back…"

"That… Wha?..." Man, she must take classes to practice that tact of hers.

"Glad you still have a pulse. Are you going to give a more detailed answer than some gibberish? I can't have a decent session of sexual coitus with a corpse, ya know…"

"Oh my… Why are my lungs on fire? Why does my skin feel hot? And… why do my privates feel wet?"

"A typical series of questions. Alright, I'll tell you. I've just done something to you called sexual arousal. Even though you consciously don't register what happened fully, your body is fired up by that kiss of mine. Sorry if that was so sudden, but I had to convince you in a less than ideal way…"

Megara shoots me a questioning look.

"You're trying to have me sympathize with you… by raping me? How intelligent…"

Man the sarcasm came rolling off that comment. Worst yet, it stung.

"Fantastic. I'm losing. Ah, I was tired of talk anyway…"

"Oh no you DON'T!"

**(And back to the sex!)**

She swings… but this time I'm ready. I duck around and disappear under her skirt and make my way back to her glistening centerpiece.

"Man, I really did it with that one. It's practically a river in here…" I'm muttering here.

"Hey Megara. This WILL sting. A lot. For a few moments…" And this was obviously out loud…

My tongue zips out and plunges into her womanly entrance. I hit a barrier at the expected depth. However, this one is practically forged shut. Even straining can't bust this damn thing. And my tongue's REALLY muscular. I must take more drastic measures…

I undo the caps once again on my index fingers' nails. I delicately open up Megara's vagina to get a better look at the virginal wall. I also see a slight blue-ish glow most people would miss (if they looked in here). But I'm not most people.

"A magical ward. Looks like daddy was rightly paranoid…"

"That's true Horadric magick. None can break that. Only powerful sorcerors can remove that."

"Then it must be fate that I'm Raji'id Fael' Re' jan's son, neh? Hold still."

I shift myself up, pushing away the voluminous skirt, raise my left hand and plunge my sharp finger into the moist slit.

I make a quick and efficient trisection of the hymen with a few accurate movements of my index. No more can she boast proudly to would-be rapists that she has a "Horadric magickally charged dick stopper". I don't even know if she even calls it that. Yeesh; the implications are quite disturbing…"

**(End… for now…)**

"So much for that. So now what?"

"Well, the lynch mob arrives, and you hang."

"Honey, this is the border of the frigging Black Marsh. No idiots come out here unless they like getting attacked by wild animals, or are finally going to take back the hay I stocked right here for my personal use."

"But you only ran for ten minutes…"

"Min—You have a pocket watch, don't you? And where did you find the time to clock me?"

"I was waiting for you to put me down so I could properly knock your head off. Now answer my question: how are we so far out here?"

"I'm a half-demon, which I'm sure you already know. I get some positive things from my mother other than nice hair, ya know"

"Then how come you're the son of a well-known and highly powerful sorceror?"

"Ahem. Sorceror. As in MALE magick-invoker. He got laid in his sleep when he camped out in the Kurasti desert when he was searching for Tal Rasha's Tomb.

He found me two days after that, tracking a strange extension of his energy that popped up out of nowhere. My birthmarks told him who the mother was.

From there I followed him everywhere he went. The memories of the hot deserts I first lived in are why I am always the most mischievous in summer. The first thing I got from my father was a piece of his cloak to protect me from sunburn."

Once again, the girl makes her remarks.

"Some strange relationship.

"Say, are you wondering why we're acting as if nothing is happening one minute, and then we return to being abusive shortly after?"

"On that note—take THIS!!"

I dodge the fist again.

"Come on now, can we just get along?"

"You're trying to have sex with me, and you're side-tracking me from escaping. LET ME GO!!"

"No. You have to understand. Now, answer this, wise-ass. Why is it that I haven't tried to stick my dick in you? It's because, even though I am the son of a demoness, a wretched orphan, and a worthless pariah to most, I am not inclined to hurt, as I've said again and again.

And note this: I could have killed you, hurt you, or at least threatened you, and yet I held my piece and merely taunted and mock-flirted with you.

Can you tell me why I am such a merciful git to one who has tried to kill me since a year after you simply looked in my direction?"

I end my monologue with a stern look. Megara is fully routed from her desperate attempts to believe I am the foul beast everyone told her I was.

She squirms self-consciously.

"I don't know, maybe you were a coward. You do--"

"—Plunged into a burning mill at the age on nine to rescue a small toddler and a dog. Came out and was blamed for starting the fire. I find out later that it was the blacksmith's assistant, go to his house, and punch him once in the mouth, knocking out most of his front teeth. The guy was nineteen."

"You might be have death wi—"

"--Ran away from my tutor, because she came after me with a butcher knife after I tried to go through her bag to get at the textbooks in it. I hid for seventeen days until she finally calmed down."

"You must be a masochi—"

"I abandoned my twelfth 'sex-attack' victim when she went to get a strap to smack me with a leather paddle when riding my manhood. I kept FAAAAARR away from Salisem se-Venar after that. I sometimes clung to the ceiling to avoid her grasping, **GROPING** hands. Any more excuses?"

Meg sighs dejectedly. Yay. My first fully-intentional convert.

"Alright, you're innocent. Now would you mind not going after my already damaged virginity?"

I furrow my brow comically.

"Oh, come ON! Why not get something for to compensate for your slight loss of dignity."

"No. I'm saving myself for a good man whom I will marry."

Man, she's firm-set on this. I wonder if…

"Fine. Just a random question, but, ah, have you ever looked at me? I mean REALLY took a good look of me?"

"Yes I ha—"

She takes the first look at me after officially coming to bear with the real me. And actually gasps.

My mouth quirks playfully and I raise my eyebrow.

"What, you've never given a guy the "once-over" before? You must be the first not to for so long…"

"No, it's just that…"

Her voice trails off as she runs her delicate hands over my lightly muscled arms and my slim thighs. She almost lovingly traces her finger along my brass belt, working her way up to my gaunt face.

"…You look… good—"

"Why, thank you."

"—and somewhat creepy at the same time..."

She glances at my white hair and locks her gaze on my eyes,

"And your eyes… They change… They're…"

"Better looking than ever?"

"No… They're PINK."

"Huh?"

"Pink. That's strange. They were blue in the alley, green when you tried to… tongue me, black when you lectured me, and they are pink right now… when you're being sentimental with me. Can you explain this?"

She had to ask the booby question.

"You want a truthful answer, or a lie?"

"Truth please."

"I don't know. I know that it has to do with my mystic heredity, but I'm not truly sure of it. I've searched through various Horadric and hellion texts, yet I've found nothing relating to my changing eyes. Everything else is covered except for kaleidoscopic eyes. Go figure."

"Let it never be said you know everything."

"My hypotheses are somewhat correct, but I don't change emotions in the blink of an eye. Spare the pun."

"They're black now."

"Yet again. They're almost always black these days. Whenever I get down to mulling over something, some ass distracts by chain of thought by screaming "The demon-child is accessing his powers! Quick! Kill him!!".

"Sounds rough. Not being able to think without some crazy bastard riling up some witch-hunters."

I clear my throat obnoxiously.

"Since when are you part of the sane population? You were the one who got them up and murderous most of time!"

"Since… oh. I see your point."

"In lieu of new intelligence: mind getting off or actually doing something? I'm leaning towards the latter…"

Megara smirks and quirks her eyebrow.

"You wish."

And she hauls-ass off me. She was kinda sittin' on my crotch at the time when she leaned in to look at my eyes, and the weight kinda… shifted…

"Aw, come on."

"Later, lover boy. Now how are we going to get back?"

"I say wait for morning, then make a stealthy entrance, sneak back into your bed, wake up at noon, then make up an elaborate excuse for your disappearance involving a cat, a brigand, and a crate of bananas…"

"And I say you take me back to Tristram before my father sends out a search. It's been about fifteen minutes, hasn't it?"

"Ah, I'd say twenty; we have been up here for quite a bit… Say, how 'bout that sex?"

"Quite pushin' it, bud. You're not exactly my type."

"Oh, you have a TYPE now? Man , you must have a double life, complete with thieves, pigs, and big do—"

"Don't start in again; I've had my fill of overt perversion."

"Aw, come on. I haven't gotten off since… two this morning!"

"And that convinces me… how?"

"I get freaky when I go without sex. And when I mean freaky, I mean incidents involving a tub of lard, a farmer's horse, and my unpredictable magicks."

She grimaces yet again.

"Does that mean the new girl…? You know what? Don't tell me…. And I thought you were strange before I got to know you…"

"I'm a twisted bastard; get used to it. As for the sex…?"

"No."

She slides down the haystack.

"Come on!"

"No-oh!" She exclaims in a sing-song voice.

"Just on—"

I jump off the haystack and land in front of Meg, startling the hell out of her.

"Not even just." Man, her resolve holds.

"I nee—"

She walks around me.

"No, you can live."

"But seriou—"

She starts towards town.

"No!"

"Come—"

"Absolutely not."

"For once?"

"Uh-uh."

"Man, will you just—"

"Going this-a way."

And this continues until about halfway there. Megara stops at a familiar spot. The Farrian household. And it's occupied…

"Just thi—"

Megara turns around and puts her hands on her hips.

"Don't you think I've blown off more convincing advances?" Nice question.

"Wouldn't say that they were so good… I mean, this is ME we're talking about!"

I dramatically kneel and throw out my arms to try to convince her of my desperation.

"Not comin' near you with those red eyes of yours. See you back in town… cutie…"

I kinda stiffen when I hear that last part. Then I snap back to reality, realizing I'm getting shot down.

"OH, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HAVE ME!!"

That just exacerbates my chances of actually getting with her. Damn.

I've met sisters of the Cathedral of Light with less fortitude. And they're kinda into teenage girls…

I sit in the yellow light of the house, watching the only girl I failed to "bag" walk away. I let out a sigh.

"Well, this is me. Agrius, of the tender age of seventeen winters. Dumped by the only real girl in Tristram…"

"Then what about me?"

I tense on hearing that voice. The greatest fear I've ever had. The least wanted person I'd ever want to see again. My first.

"Aren't I a real girl too? Well, seeing as it's been, like, AGES, I'm more of a real woman."

I slowly shift around to face the confirmation of my nightmares. The scourge of my manhood…

"Hi, Talia…" I try to smile somewhat convincingly. "How's The Farrian Cartel doin'?"

**(To Be CONTINUED SHORTLY!!)**

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Whew! That was LONG!

I will continue very soon!

--

How will Agrius escape this horror?

Why did the Farrian girl come back?

What is the history of our hero's father?

How exactly DID Agrius part with his first? And how was their relationship?

Why was it so frightening for him to meet again the girl he was so infatuated with?

And why are there so many plot-holes?

Find out this and more in the next installment of Pariah's Wasteland!!


	3. Of What We Have Seen, I Tell You

Hello everybody! Denizens of the dark fandom of Diablo! If you've hung on this far, you're either really bored, really pervy, or just plain crazy. Have hope, my friends; the story's gonna get a huge load better here on out. No more crappy love scenes! No more constipated dialogue! It's getting action-y! For realz, yo (*ahemsarcasticcommentcough*)!

Okay, enough with the blabber. Here's the Disclaimer, followed by the story…

Disclaimer: I don't own the copyright, name, or rights to own/use/change Diablo or its written sagas. But I _can_ "own" every other Diablo fanfic writer, if you get mah drift.

Secondary Warning: There is rape in this chapter. Not the hot n' sexy kind. Not the fantastically brutal kind. Not the "whipping into shape" or "BREAK THE BITCH!!!" kind. This is close to the truth of rape. It's not dramatized. It's not skipped-over. It's not heart-rending to read (`cause the male's on the receiving end). It's part of the story, and will not traumatize you. I think we all know or will know the reason why.

Plus, there's a bit of awesome towards the middle… and a large bit stupid…

**Pariah's Wasteland**

"There's nothing so insecure as a teenage affair." – William Graham

"If you ask Chuck Norris what time it is, he will always say 'two seconds til,'…" – Some Random Chuck Norris Fan

Talianna Farrian.

My first flame.

…and the last person I wanted to see, for various reasons.

First and foremost, she is as insatiable as I am… but without any kind of restraint, dignity, or wherewithal that I am so gifted with (Yeah; I'm just so… restrained and self-denying, aren't I?). If our sexual impulses were dogs, mine would be a regular sheepdog, dependable and controllable, fully immersed in its purpose, but ready to stop at any time. Talia's libido, however, would be an irrepressible cur, untrained and dangerous, with a tendency to lean towards the nasty.

Second, Talia was raised by her mother to take what she wanted by whatever force and keep it until she found no use in it. I had no intentions in becoming some sort of… FUCK PUPPET for her to toy with.

Thirdly, I had broken our relationship off rather…. nonpolitick… and I believe I bruised Miss Farrian's ego rather badly, and hurt her, eh, feelings. Of course, she HAD commenced to get weird during our last fling. As observers would know, I can be sexually perverse, but I'm not sexually INSANE.

On a fourth count against any reason (WHY?!!) for my desire to see her, I have developed the habit of not engaging in a "sex attack" with any girl more than once. Otherwise, they may start to think I'm obsessive. Or "attracted" to their allegedly "attractive" personalities. Guess which case this lovely specimen is…

A fifth reason I should avoid my former lover like the plague is that Talianna is a vindictive, vengeful, erm, PERSON when scorned. That's one of the things I used to like about her; she was dangerous. Of course, my thirst for that sort of excitement dimmed when I started to think with the head on my shoulders more often than with the head in my pants (it's, like, one of those trippy apocalyptic signs or something!).

Yet another tally for the decision for me to run screaming in the other direction at the sight of Talia's shadow on my doorway is that her parents are as close to demons from the Burning Hells as any pair of regular people can get when someone messes with their oh-so-precious daughter. As much as I respect even the most insane of my elders, I do NOT have the intention to allow people who want to knife me in my sleep to get within ten leagues of me. `Nuff sed.

Seventh, and lastly, I just don't want her any more. It's mean and nasty and inconsiderate, even if my old fling is crazy, but I have the hots for Megara at the moment. Call it the yearning to get in the sack with the hard-to-get girl, or just intense infatuation.

And that's why I'm hard-pressed to run away, squealing like a little girl, at the moment. The only thing that's standing between me and my escape is Talia Farrian… and about thirty of her gal pals (e.g.: crazies just like her).

Now, this situation would be just peachy if these were just girls in dresses and stuff. Those I can handle. However, this is not what Miss Farrian's company of… COMPANIONS is made up of. We're talkin' more along the lines of "armed to the teeth in leather getups with the intent to rape" kind of girls here.

Worse, my honor (and intent to prevent any future lynching upon my person) keeps me from beating these harpies to a pulp. Nothing says "I'm ready for my funeral now" like being surrounded by a band of seasoned rapists. I just love my life…

Anywho, back to my desperate situation of terror in real time.

"So… Talia… How's life been treating you?" I have trouble not squeaking as I try to make conversation.

Talia smirks scarily. "Very well. You'll be surprised how many people are so willing to drown their troubles in a couple pints of ale."

I try not to quake nervously. "Is that so? I guess that's the state of affairs these days…"

"I must say, it's been dull with out you, Agrius…" The burgeoning lust within Talia's voice is incredibly apparent, positively oozing off each syllable. "… All I can do with my time is do business and tell girls about your life, your personality, your LIBIDO…" The yellow light shining from the house glimmers off her gross, cracked lips, accentuating the absolute care with which she mouths her twisted monologue. I swear this girl is starting to scare me more than Megara's mother… and she organizes most of the lynch mobs against me…

I take a calm (i.e.: strained to seem less than terrified) look around from where I'm sitting. Is it me, or are the girls getting closer?... or is it uglier?...

I try not to squeak as I turn my head back to look at Talianna. "Is that so? Well, it's evident by the crowd tonight that your stories were interesting. Heh heh. Hehh…" A bead of sweat slowly winds its course down the back of my neck.

Talia leans forward a bit, close enough to enable my sensitive nose to catch a whiff of the alcohol on her breath and the pheromones just rolling off her. "How's life been treating you, Agrius? Everything going well back home?" She grins twistedly. "Is everything going well?"

I try to grin somewhat convincingly. "Well, uh, Ogden's doin' fine at the tavern, and Griswold's got some of his spirit back. Hell, Farnham's getting off the ale a little bit. I'm just fine as long as there's a roof over my head and food in my mouth." Thaaaaaaaaat's it. Keep `em talking...

"Well ain't that the cat's ass?" Talia's voice sharpens. "The ol' town letch is happy and well. Don't mind if we… _congratulate_ you PERSONALLY…"

I hear the sound of a heavy object speeding through the air, and then something raps the back of my head hard. I taste blood in my mouth, and bright sparks jump in my eyes, and everything falls to black. I can't feel anything.

But I can still hear somewhat.

I hear Talia's voice. Her voice sounds kind of tinny in my ears. "Alright, how do we wanna do this? Should we string 'im up or just fuck 'im as is?" The majority call for the former. Oh boy.

Fortunately, I lose consciousness. UNfortunately, my state of unconsciousness doesn't last long.

I feel a sting in my neck and my head buzzes as my senses come back. It's somewhat darker out, probably around late noon.

And of course, the face of my nightmares greets me. "Wake up, lover boy. Can't have you sleeping through this…" Talia's saccharine tone grates on my nerves almost as much as my hindsight on just how stupid I had been to just SIT there while one of her goons snuck up on me to sap me.

"This is where YOU have to sit still. Don't go anywhere now…" She giggles creepily, further irking me.

I spit back "Bite me."

The bitch grips my chest with her jagged fingernails, digging into my skin cruelly "Oh, but I will, Agrius. With PLEASURE."

"And I STILL think your daddy should have beaten you like a dog." This happy little slur further exacerbates my situation, as I immediately receive a heavy club in the gut.

The woman-- thing -- wielding the club grunts "Tell me if you want me to hit 'im again."

"Thank you, Murla, I will." Talianna pats her compatriot on the back.

And, of course, I ill-advisedly open my mouth again. "Oh, so we're hiring shaved gorillas now, eh? I would have gone with a qualified village idiot with sack of rabid weasels, but hey, this one's ugly enough to scare her own mother, so I guess that's good too."

And for my efforts at witty banter, the ogre-lady swings her blunt weapon full force into my vulnerable crotch. I swallow a scream of agony.

Talia chuckles "Nice shot. However, we mustn't hurt him badly. Not yet, anyways."

Back for the third round, I try my luck at hurting feelings again. "So, Talia, is every female here even uglier than you, or is it just my eyes?"

Talia steps up and pulls at my bruised area, eliciting a grunt from me, and then yanks my face close. "I'd watch my tongue, if I were you, you disgusting bastard, or I'll be carving it out with a rusty spoon and stuffing it up your arse. Got me, fuck face?"

"Sure, bitch. And speaking of my tongue - watch it do this!" My tongue darts from my mouth, quick as a blink(heh), and pokes her eyeball fiercely.

"ARGH!!!" My antagonist recoils, clutching the area where I struck. Her goons gather around her, trying to help. "Get AWAY!!!"

The women backpedal, leaving Talianna standing with a severely bloodshot eye. "That's it, fucker. You just bought yourself FORTY-SEVEN LASHES!!!"

I grin demonically back at her and chuckle. "Bring it on, crazy."

One of the peons produces a bull-whip and offers the handle to Talia. She accepts it with relish. As the drudge retreats a safe distance, my aggressor hauls back and slings the whip with unrelenting fury. The lash leaves a pink welt in its place. The onlookers flinch. Obviously, my former tryst must have a reputation for leaving a bloody stripe with every blow.

Undaunted, Talia hauls back again, and sends all her rage into her strike. Again, a paltry redness is left upon my flesh.

I chuckle darkly. "All this hatred for me, DARLING, and you can't even draw blood. How embarrassing…"

My opponent reddens with anger. "BRING ME THE CAT O' NINE TAILS!" One of her drudges scurries frantically to a nearby chest, and withdraws a nasty-looking throng, scurries back, and hands it to Talia.

She strides forward until there is but two paces between us. "THIS will leave more of a mark."

Talia hauls back for the third time, and strikes me with all her being. A little bit of my dark blood wells from the thin slashes made in my flesh. I chuckle.

"Tickles," I smirk.

Enraged further, Talia begins whipping me with a frenzy. Again, and again, she lashes in her fervor of hatred, frothing at the mouth, trying to cause real damage to me, but to no avail. My chuckles escalate to demure laughter.

She screams insanely, and starts to whip ever faster, as miniscule rivulets of my demonic ichor lazily stream downward while the cuts of their origin begin to heal. I start laughing daringly, defiantly, at her efforts.

Finally, she howls rabidly and hauls back to whip my face. But as the throng is about to connect, I open my maw and clamp down on the weapon near the handle with my sharp incisors.

Now starting to lose nerve, Talia yanks on the cat o' nine tails, trying to free it from my mouth. However, I have no intention of letting go, and with a twist of my neck I free the offensive beating object from her hold.

I begin to chew on the throng as Talianna commences to beat my head with a sap. My toothy grip never slackens, and I continue to chew the weapon until, finally, the handle drops off.

And, for a brief moment of silence, Talia and I and all of the goons around us STARE at the lone piece of hard leather, just solemnly lying there, a testament to my dental superiority. The silence is broken by me tersely spitting out the metal-studded straps.

Then the "shaved gorilla" woman from before then steps up and knocks me unconscious with her unrelenting club. Note to self: take out wielders of blunt weapons first. With prejudice.

I wake up a little later, and it looks like it's nearing sundown. Talia seems to have regained her composure. I also notice the company of fools around her is very anxious.

The evil ringleader smiles wickedly. "So… you're awake. Good…"

Talianna steps forward, this time about a yard back, and chuckles. "Well, it's now time for what my girls have been waiting for. I hope you like a bloody manhood, 'cause that's our gift to you."

I grimace nastily "Do your worst."

"Oh we will, lover boy, we WILL." She chuckles again.

A short, gangly runt of a girl-woman steps forward, gibbering in some strange dialect while staring directly at me with mad eyes. Talia puts a hand on the thing's shoulder and looks at me smugly. "This is my good friend Tompha. Agrius, meet Tompha. Tompha, meet AGRIUS." The twitching nutcase starts jabbering with greater volume and fervor. Man, look at the froth fly…

I look at Tompha the Creep, and then I look at Talia like she's nuts. Which she is. "Where exactly do you catch these characters? Did some Sanitarium have to dump some of its wackos to make room for fresh loonies, or do you just have that wonderful charisma that attract these boobies to you? Honestly, LOOK at that thing. As much as I pity her, I cannot come to terms with the overall effect of her person. She looks like a monkey… moves like a monkey… talks like a monkey. Hell, she SMELLS like a monkey. Are you trying to collect some kind of exhibit of simians, 'cause you're off to a great start with this one and miss 'doom-ape' over there..."

Talia spits bitterly on the barren ground. "Silence, bitch. This is punishment. Take it like the man-whore you aspire to be. If you don't, that's fine with me." She yanks at my belt, effectively whipping it off, and lays it neatly to the side.

She then proceeds to carefully undo the laces, almost lovingly unfurling the various simple knots in them, until the waist of my breeches hangs slack upon my hips. With almost lightning speed, Talia yanks my member out from within the confines of my clothes. For some reason, everyone gasps at the sight of my pale appendage. Even my former flame looks surprised.

"Damn, Agrius. You've really done some growing since I left." She tenderly lifts it with two fingers. "How'd you get this big, honestly?"

I look at her incredulously. "I eat my vegetables. And you're kidding, right? This is average size."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Yeah, average for a donkey." Talia stands back up and about faces. "Alright, let the party begin!" My antagonist sidesteps, and the monkey girl pounces upon my defenseless form and starts bumping and grinding frantically, to my morose displeasure.

I grimace with disgust. "If you think this thing is going to ride me just like that, you're mistaken." Thankfully (Wonderfully), my member concurs, and remains limp as a noodle.

Talia, once again, smirks. "Well, if you put it that way, I suppose I'll have to lend a helping hand…" She marches up to my side, puts her mouth near my ear, her acrid breath hot upon my skin.

I try to shrink back, but abruptly stop, due to the rather tightly bound ropes "You'd better not try what I think you're going to-" Talia opens her mouth and starts doing what I really, seriously didn't want her to do: she sucks my earlobe.

Any person with some kind of reasonable knowledge of acupuncture/acupressure would know immediately the means of what Talia was trying to accomplish. Applying a decent measure of pressure to either of the two earlobes of a human being will increase blood flow by a significant amount. For human males, this makes erections definitely more possible, even in old men. And this is bad for me, because having my penis as hard as a rock is not what I desire at this moment. But this is what I get.

I glare defiantly at my aggressor from the corner of my eye. "You are… despicable..."

Talia grins back at me "Anything for you. He's all yours, Tomphy."

The monkey girl then stops vibrating, looks down, and smiles. Her smile widens into a toothy grin, at which point I can count all nine of her blackened teeth.

Then, almost immediately, the ape-ish female howls insanely, and plunges her sweaty centerpiece onto my traitorous organ. I groan with instant displeasure, as I feel the fetid lips of my rapist's orifice racing up and down my pelvic meat.

"Dear Lord save their souls," I mutter under my breath. Hey: I'm not one to hold a grudge.

The monkey girl bounces up and down, faster and faster, unrelenting. I notice her face beginning to redden rapidly. The wretched female breathes with excitement, practically bursting with erogenous energy.

I begin to believe the end will never come. What the hell IS this girl?

"Oh, God, will it ever end?" I mutter under my breath…

By some stroke of divinely sweet chance, the monkey girl stops, as if the energy suddenly just went out of her. She twitches slightly, and then a gushing nosebleed erupts from her skull. The pooped rapist faints, falling off my erection and landing on the ground with a light "plop".

Surprisingly, Talia doesn't lose it when this happens. Instead, she blankly looks at her prone comrade, and then turns to the rest of her band. "Well, it WAS her first time." The peons chortle in mild amusement.

She turns sharply to me, and grins wickedly. "You're not out of the fire yet, boy. There's still more to come." She gestures toward the fallen girl, and two of the grunts shuffle forward and pick the prone female up, and carry her over to the side.

Again, Talianna Farrian turns to the throng. "Who's up next? Come on, don't keep us waiting…" Apparently seeing an eager volunteer, she spins around and adopts her practiced smirk. "Well, well, Agrius. You're in for a treat. Don't worry, no introductions are needed, you've already met this girl. And her club."

I groan and make clear on my face that I know whom she is hinting at. "Not the shaved gorilla. Anything but the shaved gorilla…"

Talia grins sadistically. "Oh, yes, lover boy. Let's see how Murla treats you now…"

The mountain of doubtful femininity sallies forth to my position, and proceeds to lean forward with her ugly lips pursed, preparing to engulf my poor mouth.

"Oh, no frickin' way." I haul back my head as far as the restraints will allow, and slam my cranium into the ogre-lady's forehead.

A resplendent and horrifying crack resounds throughout the contact point.

I feel blood trickle onto my right eyeball, and a pathetic whimper escapes the gorilla-woman's lips. "Murla" slumps down, and then keels over to the side, twitching slightly. Talia and company rush over.

"My hard head saves me for once. Hunh." I look up to see the furious face of my frightening former lover.

Talianna growls briefly. "You son of a… Look what you did!" Her voice is filled with anguish, for the first time in a long while. "You… hurt her…"

I cock my eyebrow at her. "Oh, yeah, sure. I'm gonna LET myself get raped. Who's my next victim, bitch?" She sullenly glowers at me, and then stalks back to her motley congregation.

For a good while, the rogue's gallery discusses various punishments and heinous tortures, all of which were perverse and to do with the obliteration, annihilation, mutilation, destruction, perversion, mastication, etcetera of male sex organs. Finally, after a short eternity of the choosing of my erotic demise, the verdict is reached.

Talia turns to me, giving me a twisted grin, a malicious glimmer in her eye. Her gaze flicks over to her cohorts. "So… Bring it out! Bring…. HER… OUT!!!!" Her minions scurry to bring whatever "out".

A coffin covered with seals is rolled into view. It looks old… and somehow decadent…

My hellish tormentor purses her lips. "You should know, Agrius, that we don't do this too often. This particular torture is only used upon grave enemies of the Sisterhood. One hundred seventy four seasons ago, a punishment of eldritch designation was unearthed by a brotherhood of assassins. It was the binding of a creature of infernal origin for the purpose of one command: To slaughter an individual placed one an arcane "Road of Plight". This method gained the attentions of a more powerful group twenty five seasons later, and the brotherhood was subsequently destroyed, the conquerors pillaging the rituals of binding and command. Guess what faction took that beautiful ceremony. Now, we don't need any of that, seeing as the… subject is so near by. We simply need to stick a few sticks on the ground," Talia indicates the grunts paving the ground with twigs of hazel, "and set the container on the path, facing the target. I haven't seen one of these rituals performed. I suppose it will be a surprise for both of us, won't it, lover boy?" Talia grins, a few dark molars showing.

I put in my two ments as Talianna "Creepy" Farrian saunters over to the beat-up wooden prison.

"I'm sure that this little jewel will stick out in my memory for ages to come, but could you hurry up? I haven't eaten breakfast and even a well-fed individual like myself needs to eat."

I pause and yawn. I refocus my gaze and blink lazily "Carry on…"

A vein throbs visibly on my adversary's temple. "Glad I've got you in rapt attention. Try not to bleed on me when you die. Cut his ropes and begin the release. I want Agrius to amuse me before he leaves us…"

I was stunned. But suspicious. "I'm seriously doubting your sanity here. There's no way I-"

"Oh, shut up for once, Agrius," Talia snaps, "I want you to die running for your life. I don't desire your assets anymore."

I shoot another deadpan look at her. "You weren't singing that tune a few moments ago…"

"You might say I've made up my mind," Talianna simpers.

"You could also say your mind is a circus of delusions," I retort, "But who am I to say so; I'm only me."

The air thickens as the incantation gets off to a start. I smell cobwebs and dry heat wafting through the air. My bonds are cut abruptly, and the pressure is lifted from my limbs as the ropes are cast aside.

I rub to life the sensation in my hands, glaring at my lost love, no longer fearful of her. I can't word how that is, though…

"You know," I begin, "The reason for why I haven't ripped your throat out yet is because I don't want to be eviscerated by that ugly surprise you have locked-up in there due to my distraction in massacring you and your trolls…"

Talianna smirks. "Such confidence from one so easily fooled, Agrius. Too bad you have naught but an oversized member to back up that statement." She giggles girlishly.

The atmosphere deadens and sounds become blurred and somehow sharpened, as if one were underwater. The ceremony reaches its peak, and then the front of the coffin is blown off, landing with a thumping crack that is magnified and dulled in an instant. I wince. My ears are incredibly sensitized from the lack of sound and the heavy amount of psychic energy(Certain seals only require pure will and lingual designation, so no magic is really involved in the process. No way these apish bumpkins could handle magic, seeing as it requires a, ah, BRAIN) drenching the air, and at this point a pin's _shadow_ dropping is a bit much for my aural perception…

It begins to rain. I reach out and something drops into my hand. A cold, violet fire flushes to life in my outstretched palm as I ponder the water in the well of my hand.

A tick resounds through my soul.

I feel wind collect in my palms and slip through my fingers. My brow feels heavy and I sense heat building in my temples. Thoughts speed and slow.

My. Breath. Sings.

I see a beat in the air and blue mist thrusts forth from the coffin with it, then it flows steadily. I know something is there, and I feel I must draw whatever forth.

I am barely aware of whatever Talia is screaming at her thugs, but I'm past caring. That box is what matters right now.

Feet nearly gliding across the loamy earth, my consciousness strains to perceive the presence in this coffin presented before me. I feel a similarity.

Not total kinship, but a feeling of almost belonging…

I stop before the seemingly endless black. An endless breath lingers upon my face, then moves beyond me, somehow.

Reaching out, I seek to caress an unseen face, which to my expectation was to be silken cheek. My fourth finger comes into contact with a prick, and my skin breaks. I feel a slight ebb from the miniature wound, but the expected wetness is pulled away.

I reopen the eyes that I had apparently had been near to fully closing, and catch the leer of two scarlet orbs. My blood chills as I see a magic star blossom in my lower peripheral vision. Fortunately, I begin to jump back before the orb shrinks and explodes.

I feel a lift as the rippling force bears me off the earth, and I "fly" up and backwards, spinning.

Vision wheeling, I thrust my arms out and above me, and my nails scrape something. I dig in with both hands at the source, and my legs fly back with the vestigial remains of my momentum. However, this is enough to make my grip come away from the miraculous anchor that(as I flew back) turned out to be the post I had been bound to.

Thank God for Talia's perverse imagination, otherwise I would have ended my flight by breaking my spine on a cairn as I ended my not-so-pleasant flight. Then again, her imagination got me in this predicament to start with…

My head nearly meets my heels in a complete circle as ground speeds in to meet my face. I strike out my hands at the loam and push the heels of my palms into the ground. My toes make contact with the earth and immediately I know that I will have to translate the rest of the momentum to the upper half of my body, lest I risk injury to the delicate membranes behind my kneecaps.

I bring my shoulders up and back, followed by my lower back and pelvis, my arms flying up behind my head to catch the ground again. To avoid touching the ground with my toes again, I handspring high enough for me to get space to quickly spin and throw my legs under me, bent with one foot in front and one in back. I land on the arches of my feet and dig my heels in to get rid of the final wind of my flight. I scrape back a few inches, anyways, but nothing too dramatic.

Gad; I haven't done a good back-flip in years. Thank the one God my body's naturally up there with the best of `em…

I look up from my [obviously] crouched form and see the coffin, silent as ever. A clawed hand languidly slips out and grips the side of the container. My heart sinks and my stomach turns to ice.

My legs bear me across the morass with an ease I am surprised at in passing, closing in on the dark presence that remains hidden within the unsealed coffin.

Leap.

Bounce.

Step. Step. Step.

Bloodshot orange eyes flash in the shadows, and a bandage-encased demoniac leaps from the wooden crate, claws outstretched. I pull a fist as I close the distance.

I strike, and hear the air whistle as my mace of a hand passes my ear.

Instead of the satisfying smackcrunching impact of a good belt, I get a taloned stopping-grip from the witch-demon on my extended arm.

It releases, and strikes with one fist at my clavicle, then the other upon the sternum, followed by a simultaneous repulsion with the first fist and a foot, sending me flying AGAIN.

I sigh as I feel the atmosphere lathering my back. Thankfully, the martial wallop the demoniac gave me was simply lateral, or I'd be facing a preternatural flight to heaven.

Repulse the Monkey, my inner conscious mutters.

Repulse the Monkey?! I'm not a monkey! I have to admit to the fact that I got my flight ticket punched by some demon that somehow learned the hand-to-hand discipline of the Brotherhood of the Bough.

Honestly, who is teaching who these days?...

I got caught by such a simple ploy. Not even an intermediate move, but a God-fucking-damn cheater's move that's used by egotistical shits to impress some mentally slim barmaid off in some backwater tavern in some crappy outpost out in Westmarch!

My legs shudder as I bring them back down on the spongy peat hard, sending flecks of detritus flying. I look up and see the running figure of the beast coming at me.

Now, to most people, this would look like a blur and a sign of considerable effort. To my more capable eyes, the effort this bugger's putting into its run is nothing more than a casual jog. I grit my teeth at the combatant's gall. The rat's not even taking me seriously.

I line my legs up and swipe my fanned hands along the ground. I press my fingertips against the earth, and I wing it with all I've got.

Not caring about the close ground, I focus upon the ambling figure, the arrogant fuck. Still not slowing down, I push down with both of my legs with more force.

Blink.

And it is there. For the small moment where I come back into view, I perceive the evident shock upon the demoniac's heavily gauzed face, and grin to myself. I crux my forearms, palms facing either side of me.

The fiend's throat is caught by the apex of my joined limbs, and unites with me in my undeterred flight

1, 2, 3.

4, 5…

On six or seven, the stunned beast's poleaxed feet catch some divot in the earth, and it jerks, beginning to plummet. I wisely bring my arms back and apart as the devil commences its descent. Unable to resist, I throw my clenched fists in a scissoring double hammer blow upon the dazed assailant's falling form.

I suppose that was a bad idea, as the demoniac instantly comes to, and places its hands in some old, obscure sigil, and I feel a pulse upon my breast and forehead, and my sense of balance and my form goes reeling. I hear the sound of my opponent's consummated fall in a brief, uneven thump in my sense of things.

The air once again finds my backside, and I feel not at my best. My mind and my senses are fouled up, somehow. Not hesitating, I jam the heels of my palms into my left eye socket and my right ear, instantaneously sending a magickal delta pulse into my orifices. The raw mana cleanses my adulterated mental and sensory functions to clear the weird energy clogging my neurons and subverting their messages. A proverbial veil parts from my vision and I feel well again.

I slam backwards into something made of rotten wood.

Okay, mayhap not so well.

I turn myself and perform a cartwheeling position until finally slowing to put my feet safely upon the ground once more. I am definitely not a flying person…

Something crunches under my feet. I look down to see a split hazel rod, and some more of its brethren.

I look around and see the dashed remains of the fiend's entombing coffin. Looks like I'm back where I started and my options of sealing off the demoniac are certainly as hopeless as the vestiges of that already dubious affair of a container.

I brush myself off, ignoring the still lingering groupies of Talia's band and the lovely harlot's own gratuitous shrieking. I look to the direction of my more obvious foe, which has already picked itself off the ground and is again running toward me, more sincerely this time.

I ready myself for yet another clash, flexing my buzzed fingers. The fiend grins (I can tell), and blurs with a purple aura, disappearing in an infinitesimal moment. Okay…

I recall the blasts the demoniac previously launched at me. Paired with what just happened, I believe I'm dealing with an esper soldier. A mind warrior meant for the special purpose of brutalizing demons and demon slayers alike.

Wonderful.

I gauge the surrounding area with my conscious, feeling out the air and scenting the ether, exploring the waves of existence surrounding me.

Coming up empty, I deepen my search, reaching out to the widest expanses of the fabric of being to find my enemy. A welling touches upon my mind.

Success. I open the folds of existence with my mind.

It is—

**NOM P'KOTTH, YOUNDLING.**

.

.

.

………

.

Shudder.

What the…?

I saw a terrible reptile, burning my psyche. Some starry dinosaur of dwarfing proportions against any leviathan within the Great Sea.

Oh m—

I mentally retch. I nearly physically do, too.

I felt like my mind was being pulled and drained, somehow. I guess the fiend I'm looking for is not at that depth.

I search again. Behind me. I guess I wasn't looking FAR enough. I GUESS I shouldn't overthink things in future, too…

I swiftly about-face. I see my assailant. With the pole. That was used to hold me. That is about sixteen feet tall and as thick as my thigh.

Before I can ask myself the very obvious question and answer it, the demoniac swats me with the heavy wooden shaft. And, before I can come up with the very obvious pun to this dire situation, I feel a bird hitting my shoulder.

A turkey vulture. Isn't there some saying about flying turkey vultures? Or one about hitting flying turkey vultures? I don't know…

The thing I DO know is that I am flying high and fast through the air for what is certainly the third unintentional aerial sightseeing trip in as many minutes. My life is full of unexpected surprises, I swear…

I look between my legs and see a house zipping by. Graham Residence. I'm soaring through the rich quarter of Tristram. Funny, seeing as I'm usually flying OUT of the rich quarter. Via someone's boot.

From the position of Graham House that I saw, I'll probably be pasted against the stony fortifications of Rowenshod Manor within a few seconds. I look "up"

Sure as God made little green apples, there's the powerful, sturdy form of the Rowenshod manse, with a solid framework of ironwood supports and buttressing and granite-shod walls and blue mageglass shingling. Such a beautiful piece of manmade work to become a permanent stain upon. Home of Megara, too. We were starting to get along so nicely…

The trademark circular stained glass window of the Rowanshod rowan from the esteemed family's code of arms fills my view.

I sigh…

Wait, GLASS?!

The pretty, sturdy piece of glasswork that the famous glassmaker Joshin proclaimed one of his works to last the ages never stood a chance against my much sturdier, prettier face smashing into it at a strong clip. My appearance began to comically flatten against it before the window broke and shattered in an instant. As I flew through the upper study of Rowanshod Manor, I grinned and waved hello at the occupants. I got a weird look from Megara's mother. I got an even weirder look from Megara. Maybe they were just talking about me. Or maybe they were talking about my um, uh… uh oh.

I hit the wooden wall at mach speed and break through. My body simply ignores the inner iron paneling and the thick granite sheet on the way through. However, that doesn't mean I didn't feel it; I felt every splinter, every edge, every piece of rubble of pain and blunt-force trauma and split-second agony. It's a wonderful day in the neighborhood.

All this can be yours for the seemingly fleeting moment it takes for this half-human idiot to be stuffed through a heavy, painful, and certainly expensive piece of expert human craftsmanship and engineering. Get it now for twice the value!

Whumpf.

I hit the thatching of a roof near the town square with a lasting amount of force. Thankfully, the cataclysmic impact with the Rowanshod abode slowed me down enough to ensure I didn't leave a lasting impression on another dwelling.

I wince and groan at the various new aches and pains I have very recently received. I am definitely not a flying person.

Let's hope there isn't anything broken beyond masonry and my pride. And Talia's feelings, of course.

I haul myself out of the stiff hay halfway and shimmy my arse along the roof until I fall and land on the cobblestones feet first with a plunk. Now to business.

I walk over to Griswold's smithy, the old piece of hard muscle and good humor whaling away at yet another edge for his renowned selection. The clangor rings sound and true, true music to my ears.

Other people (mainly the pea princesses of this fair township) find the smith's work to be "noise pollution", and have more than once cited complaints to the temporary fief lord of Tristram about it. Thankfully, he was a dutiful ruler, not some thrice-damned capitol politician, and thoroughly denied them time after time. Isn't it strange that all of the aggrieved were from the rich quarter? Thankfully, most of the others in that particular section of Tristram pretty much grew up in this backwater `berg.

It's all those northern _vacationers_. Their little oysters can't take the sound of a little sound of metal-on-metal, yet their firing spells off at odd periods of the day isn't within their terms of "deafening".

… They're all prissy elitists up in Ensteig, aren't they? Gad, I'm thankful I don't live there; there'd be murder in the streets within an hour of my arrival.

But I digress; there is more to do than worry about the useless and the used and all the politics of the least functional nations…

I close the distance, and look down at the glowing steel being slammed and beaten into conformity. Yet another bastard sword. He calls them "hand-and-a-half swords" to the public, but I know that he makes them due to my constant insistence on their quality of functionality, comparing them to myself and my rather hybridized qualities. Suffice to say, he was convinced, and has since made about thirteen blades so far, Even his masterpiece, which he dubbed "The Edge" (The lunkhead he gave it to was nice enough to refer to it as Griswold's Edge, but the old bear has no illusions about the catchiness of his saintname, and so he went with The Edge), was a bastard sword. Honestly, I think it's an inside joke every time someone starts talking about bastards and weaponry. A useful, yet odd weapon for a useful, yet weird person? Yes please!

"Slow morning, Woldo?"

His bald pate clearly defines the vein pulsing on his temple. "Ah tol' you tah call me by my full name; weh are not lovers and you're certainly not a woman, so you can't get away with screwing with my name, even if you screw around with ev'rything else, lad."

I grin. "I know, you old goat. I just like messing with you."

Griswold looks up from his work. "I know that, lad, and _I_ know I'd have ta clobber yew with mah hammer before yeh'd stop." He resumes his work, putting the final edge on before he has to whet it. "What brings you here? You're usually around for stories, but Ah'm guessin' you want something… I AM correct, aren't I, lad?"

My grin widens. "That would be right. I'm looking to borrow something."

"And what would tha' be, _lad_?"

"A nicely sharp and nasty weapon," I state offhandedly.

Griswold smirks. "And what makes you think you're getting such a thing from me."

Now I have him. "`Cause I don't whine, bitch, complain, or fuck up when you drag me from my bed at an hour after moon noon, that's what. For that matter, I have done a few errands for you in the past, some quite important. My eyes are better than your best apprentice's, my grip is firmer, and I don't dick with the merchandise-" I get a look "without fully compensating and helping repair the damages, to weapon and properties, of course…"

I put my index fingers together. "So, if it's not too much; lend me such a weapon?..."

The old man mountain sighs. "What kind of weapon, why do you need it, and what intended target?

Lessee… "Um, a throwing spear. An aerodynamic one, with a very hard, but light metal. Preferably one with barbs that make it hard to dig out, even with rough treatment."

Griswold sets down his tools and his shaped weapon and goes to the back of his smithy, picking through the racks. "A harpoon, if I'm correct, lad. Used for whales, but you're not struck with such aspirations are yeh, boy? Nah, your target is much smaller. Hell, if `t'ain't the case, I'll eat the rest of theh Magic Rock with a teaspoon and weapon oil."

I relax; even when he's convinced, he tends to find some way to shorthand me if he thinks he's getting swindled. "Rest easy, I'm not a sailorman yet. It's smaller than a whale, to be sure. I also need to kill it."

I hear some clangor and curses from some obscure storage room within the shop. He calls from wherever he is "Barbed, right? This "target" wouldn't be anyone I know, _would it_? Suppliers tend to be held accountable with murderers, if with a slightly more lenient drubbance, you know."

"It isn't. It's a demon. At least, it might be a demon. Might just be some possessed witch o—"

I hear Griswold crash into something and exclaim in several choice Duncraig oaths. "A demon? Well, I certainly hope you didn't bring it here, lad." An edge of snarkiness creeps into his voice as he finally emerges from his armories, with some cuts on his face and slightly limping from what I assume to be from his old battle wounds and possibly a few good bruises from tripping over/falling over/kicking fallen equipment. "Here yeh are. You have three rather simple choices." He holds out one spear with four bladed flanges, like a mace, for a head and three long, broad flights made of soft metal at the butt. "This one is a rather simple spear, this type is modeled by the Amazons from their own arrows, as you can see by the lovely design. The bad part is that its balance is shit because it's heavy on the front and the flights tend to snag on many soft, inexperienced hands, so it's unpopular on the whole outside of Skovas. I made these for the sole purpose of attracting weapons enthusiasts and the occasional exiled Amazon. The balance shouldn't be too much of a problem for you, tho', seeing as you've got enough strength for two Amazons."

He lays that on his anvil, and holds out the second selection, a plain bronze spear with two barbs behind the head and a ball on the butt for a counterbalance. "This is your average Barbarian throwing weapon, seeing as they hate anything shorter than their armspan. As you can see, rather well-designed, excellent balance and barbs just like you wanted. However, it's heavy and doesn't want to stay straight in the air. Not too much of a problem, Agrius, if you actually AIM when throwing this." I shrug sheepishly.

Griswold lays that one, too, flat on the anvil, then hefts his last choice, a pearly, silver short spear with a large, spiked head and a sizeable counterbalance. "And we have a fine last contestant. This is beautiful work of mine, and it handles like a warrior's dream. However, this is made with the designs of an assassin's weapon. Not the Vizzle-jackasses, but the sellswords, so it's not rigged to blow if you touch it. Now, because of the design, it has to be thrown underhand, so as to not send it into the ground. I melted down a fair amount of the Magic Rock to make this, so it's your best bet to slay any demon. It does have some amount of heft, so consider letting this off when you're face-to-face with your devious enemy. Be careful; it is a holy weapon, so it may burn you. Plus, it has a rough surface that I haven't been able to take off with anything, so don't handle this unless you must…" He lays this one down on the anvil.

"Make your choice, lad." Griswold says.

I look at the array. "Eh…"

"Well?"

I grasp the Amazon spear in my hand, hefting it a little bit to get a feel. I look at the others.

"Well?" Griswold shifts his feet expectantly.

"Um…" I remember the situation. "Agh! I can't do it!"

I snatch the silver spear and sprint for the Rowanshod abode, a plan forming in my mind. "I'll return these, I promise!!!"

I reach the milky-white wall of the manor and jump to the stable roof, then the regular roof. I quickly thank God for the flat architecture of Megara's abode.

I peer in the direction of where I came from, and catch sight of the demoniac. Thankfully, it's slower due to its latest weapon. Still pretty fast by human standards, though.

I wet my finger and get a feel for the direction of the wind. By some blessing of fate, it blows behind me. I take the Amazonian spear, bend my knees, widen my stance, and haul back with the spear ramrod straight. I aim naturally, and pull the spear through the motions, letting it fly with all its deadly purpose toward the loathsome creature.

I don't stop to see the weapon strike, instead opting for sealing the deal and killing the damn monster. I jump off the house, landing with a roll and rushing off without skipping a beat. I stuff the remaining spear in the back of my pants between my two belts and ready my claws for action. My opponent enters my view.

It seems that my spear didn't really end up in the demoniac, but it did split the pole in twain and gashed its side pretty good. Not stopping, I leap and tackle the target, throwing it off balance. We quickly regain our footing, I ball up my fists and it seizes the least splintered half of the pole.

We trade blows, me taking nipping and jabbing shots, jumping and strafing, the witch-beast charging and sweeping. It gets in a good hit, and I fly off into the farming district not too far off, landing near a shed.

I have no time to lose, as the demoniac rushes me. I grasp around for something to block the incoming smash, and I find a pole-like something within my grasp. However, it's too thin, so I bring up my feet and block the downward strike, shoving it off.

I leap to my feet and take a look at the object in my hand. A scythe! Not necessarily nice, big sword or axe, but it'll do. I take the polearm in both hands and swipe it at my opponent's head. The demoniac barely dodges the slender blade of the harvesting tool cleanly cutting its facial bandages.

I bring the scythe around again, coolly slashing my opponent's torso. I could get used to this thing; it feels so… natural, really.

Unfortunately, my enjoyment of my new toy is interrupted by my opponent, who brings its own plaything around, breaking the haft of the sickle, then drawing back and striking again in a surprising burst of speed, punching the ticket for my flight once again.

My opponent follows me through the air, intent on finishing this battle. A still moment passes, the demoniac uncharacteristically pensive and honorable, not attacking, waiting for my landing

We land back where I started, in the town square. No weapon in hand, prone before the strange creature, I reach for the spear as it rears back for the final blow. I rip out the holy weapon, and strike doublehanded at the demoniac's breast. It breaks through there tough bandaged form almost unfairly, and the demon gasps, relinquishing the wooden weapon from its grasp. The ruined bandages fall from its eyes, and I, in turn, gasp.

A scarred, yet beautiful face. The lips were chapped, the eyes milky with blindness, yet alive. A feminine, earthly beauty stares into my soul

"Why, brother?" She utters, blood spurting onto my hands.

"I don't know…" I mutter.

I have known no sister, but she feels just so right as such. My vision fogs, and I look at my hands as my skin drinks deep of the unholy ichor. The form of my enchanted opponent chars and burns away with an inner fire.

I black out

I come to, in my bed. Blood Raven is at my side. She tells me of what occurred, and I understand. I pick up my things from my room and prepare to go.

I bid Megara farewell, and I set off on a new adventure…

Curious? I am, too. Tune in for next time! A new beginning, a new adventure!


	4. Is There Something Left to be Found?

Okay, this is the author's corner! There'll be one at the end of every installment of this Pariah Saga (catchy, huh?).

Now, I bet you're confused. You may have some questions.

Who the hell is Talia?

The monster? What the hell was she?

Why did the monster call Agrius "brother"?!

The ending read kinda funny and felt rushed; WHY?!

Why did you hold off on this chapter until almost two years later?

We haven't seen Agrius's father. He seems really cool from what we've heard. Give us an omake! RAWR!

What did Blood Raven tell Agrius? It's weird how you just left it off like that!

It would be nice if we could get the prologue to this. How did we get here? How was Agrius born? How did he grow up(we know the details, but we want MOAR!)? What happened in Diablo one (for the n00bs of the Diablo franchise)?

Why was the first chapter so crappy, the second so random, and the last so frigging awesome-but-rushed?

How do you write your lemons?

How do you write; what's your secret; what's your writing process?

Are you a pr0n addict?

Are you a hentai otaku?

Are you a perve?

What's your sexua—let's just scrap that one, folks.

How do you develop your characters?

How did you get started writing this?

When can we see more of this?

WHOS YOUR DADDY?!!

~XXX~

Let's get started with answers…

Talia is the girl Agrius "lost" his virginity to. More like he "gave" it to her, along with heaping loads of naughty sex and steaming spooge on her backside. She got kinda weird after their extended encounter, but Agrius didn't take this into account until her reengaged her sexually, where she takes out a nasty strap as part of this creepy fantasy she had locked up in her head for a while… Needless to say, our lovely perve of a hero was out-perved and ran off.

--

The monster will be explained in the coming sequel to this, I assure you

--

Obviously, she is related to him somehow. Now, just to relieve any of those fears or those weird fantasies in your little heads, they are NOT brother and sister. It's just a bit more complicated than that. It's not gonna be a Star Wars/crappy anime plot device where the chick that the hero seriously wants to boink is his frigging cousin or something. Naw, this is a Shakespearean plot device, ma cherie.

--

It _was_ rushed, people. I had my honor on the line, see; I promised to have this chapter out by Christmas, but extended it to New Year's due to my not coming up to bat… I made a midnight submission right as the ball dropped and everyone else was out having a life and having girl/boyfriends and sex in bathrooms (romantically, of course…. Or is that drunkenly?...). Trust me, I was determined to crank this sumbugger out. And I did, unintentionally saddling you people with a tasty cliffhanger…

--

I'm a friggin' lazy bastard, that's why.

Nay, `twas Writer's Block that did the dirty deed. And noncommittal-ness.

See, I didn't know how to follow up, and I had a life and a nigh-crashed computer with no internet due to a bug. So, it was pretty friggin' tough. Thankfully, I got new router and a sweet new deal for Christmas, so I was able to crank the rest of this bugger out.

--

Agrius's father? Oh, sure I have that one under way. It's just hard when you're going in two directions, people…

--

That'll be explained in the coming installment, I assure you.

--

That's gonna come in the form of some fluffy T-rated fics and some sweet little darlin' M-rated ones. I've got Christmas specials, Halloween specials, even Thanksgiving fics planned for this little universe o' mine.

The Diablo one story will come in the same package as the tale of Agrius's father. Hellfire, if anyone's interested, will come from our pervy hero's point view as well, with the Monk and his Bard as well.

--

That's easy. The first was written on the fly, with a literarily virginal mind at the keyboard. I had the plans to launch the second chapter combined with the first as to entertain the masses further, but I couldn't find a way to end it well enough at the time, and so broke the original chappie into two pieces, finishing up the second chapter by dinnertime on the same day of publication of PW. The third is spiritually the second chapter, and I had writer's block and technical difficulties during the two summers writing it, and so didn't finish it very quickly or efficiently for already explained reasons. However, I was able to stuff more plot and logical thinking into the piece, getting rid of the irrational reactions and stiff and one-minded dialogue.

To answer that question directly, I had different intentions at the beginning of each chapter. The first, I was playing off the afterglow of reading this one Diablo fic, also about a necromancer, on here that was toying with relations between him and Blood Raven, which struck me as interesting, leading to the making of Pariah's Wasteland(officially).

With chapter two, I was crafting Agrius into this sexy Scaramouche-type character, very bold, dashing, pretty rough around the edges, relatable and a big addict to promiscuity. I gave him a vindictive, dangerous edge and a thoughtful outlook, and made Megara a solid, more fleshy character, defining the plot and solidifying how things worked in our pariah's tidy little corner of the world.

When I started chapter numero tres, I had read this WoW fic by Dough, who had this little altercation between his character Dough(interestingly) and the whorish barmaid of this joint he once frequented, and it tweaked my funny bone, so I decided to use that element and the plot device and made Talianna Farrian, a very scary, naughty girl indeed. Of course, then I sobered up from all the lemons and limes I had been reading and decided to go for broke with a more action-y plotline, and drew up all sorts of ways to toss Agrius out on his ear into a more dangerous world. I had toyed with Agrius escaping from Tristram as the town was sinking into bedlam as our hero's father loses control of his unholy prisoner, bringing forth demons of Hell and forces of chaos, but that seemed too immediate and weird. I had also considered having Agrius's father rescue his son, with Blood Raven in tow, but that would have been too convenient and would make our hero out to be a wimp, really. So, instead, I threw in a demon being unleashed and Agrius's inner badass being put out on display. Hopefully, the play-by-play wasn't too tedious for you guys…

--

Simple; the power of i_magin__**ayyy**_-tion! And lots of porn. Well, maybe not lots… And some personal experience, I guess…

--

I generally brainstorm and worry about various details. I have a sister on here who trounces my shit a thousand fold, so I have to look at her stuff, find what makes it good, and try to bring some of that magic into some of my crap. Reading her fanfics really helped me nail down various plot holes and how to plan various things. Her material also helped me resurrect my pretty dead character conversations…

My process? I make some notes, tape them to a dartboard, then….

Just kidding. Said in above, I brainstorm and typically pick through the various ideas. The epic shit I can handle fine, but it's the little things that take up my time. Some authors are able to spout out, like, 20,000 words (under the sea *heh*) in one chapter, and I certainly aspire to that length, but I worry more about quality, and those people who shuck out a lotta words tend to have shit that comes off pretentious, childish, and just plain bland (to me. There are legions of fantards out for that shit…). I don't want bland or crappy, so I will typically take about four hours for about five thousand words, down pat. Then add in all the little breaks, side-tracking, chores (gotta clean the dump, ya know…), and general spazzing-out and surfing the web to extend the monotony…

So, in short, that's how I do it…

--

Hell no!

--

Somewhat!

--

Very much!

--

You'd better.

--

I develop characters on the fly. An idea strikes me, I play with it, get lost, come back, and then make my final decision. Then change that final decision at the last second.

--

From reading a Diablo fic about a necromancer, the one where the main character faces down Blood Raven in the beginning, and there's a heated dialogue during the battle about some thing between them and Gillian, the barmaid, and then Blood Raven is struck down by the paladin, and the necromancer's all sad, and… well, that's the fic that inspired me to start up Pariah's Wasteland using the same premise. And, during the writing process, things changed due to my imagination…

--

As soon as late January, I believe. I will make a rather long chapter to stem the hunger, but I need help from my creative team *cough* to work it all out. It might end up getting started right on the anniversary of Pariah's Wasteland, just for sentimentality, but I might'n't be that cruel…

--

Um… Dad, guess…

~XXX~

Now that I've got that outta the way, I want your opinions (reviews!!!) on where to go from here.

Should I go straight for part two of this misadventure,

Should I start writing up the prologue,

Should I start on all the fluffy one-shots,

Or should I get to making the story of Hellfire?

It's your choice! Review now, and have a say in future Diablo fics by ME!!!!

In the coming adventure… Agrius… joins the army!! YAHH!!


End file.
